


I Wanted to Love You Like My Mother's Mother's Mother Did

by Two_for_Slashing



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Implied Relationships, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-04
Updated: 2017-05-04
Packaged: 2018-10-27 21:30:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,180
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10817139
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Two_for_Slashing/pseuds/Two_for_Slashing
Summary: Jordie finds Jason, right when their entire world seems to be going to hell.





	I Wanted to Love You Like My Mother's Mother's Mother Did

**Author's Note:**

> So I started this in March of 2015, emailed a draft to myself, and then promptly forgot it existed until the other night. Therefore, as this was started way back before Jason and Jordie had been traded, for the sake of this fic, they are both still on the Dallas Stars. 
> 
> I'm not a huge fan of zombies, but I've watched a fair share of The Walking Dead and read a bit of the comics, so there's a little bit of that in here, but for the most part I take my own liberties with things. I keep a lot of the backstory vague on purpose - this is really a story about Jordie/Jason, not zombies, etc.
> 
> If this seems weirdly written, I apologize, as it is as of now over two years old, and my writing style has changed a bit. 
> 
> The title is taken from Wye Oak's "Civilian", an absolutely tragic song.
> 
> And now if you aren't bummed out (or Jordie, Jason, Jamie, etc., to which I say GET OUT NOW WHILE YOU STILL CAN!!!), enjoy!

When he was growing up Jordie had two accurate shots: the shot taken from just off the left corner of the goal, right below the iron, practiced with a religious fervor until he mangled his wrist in a hit of friendly fire and lost that accuracy and became a defenseman instead. The second shot was from his grandfather's rifle, aimed directly at the target taped to trees in the backyard of their home in Victoria. Jordie and Jenny would challenge each other, see who could hit the most targets first, while their father helped Jamie hold the gun straight, their baby brother shaking with the weight of the gun in his hands.

Jamie still shook with the weight of the gun now but he could shoot, and Jordie still struggled to hit a shot on the net but that didn't matter anymore. What matters was that his target shot was still accurate, and when the rotting remains of what had been a man shuffled out at him from underneath the parking garage of the American Airlines arena, he fired with little thought.

The body made a hollow thud as it slumped motionlessly to the ground, guts splattering everywhere. Jordie was used to that noise and the brief relief it brought him knowing that he had hit his mark and his target was dead, along with the smell of rotting flesh that would make anyone with a weaker stomach than him sick for days. 

It was the strangled gasp behind him that was a foreign sound.

He glances back just enough to recognize the deep chocolate eyes and scruffy beard, although the expression on Jason’s face is less familiar. His eyes are blown wide and his mouth is hanging open; horror, Jordie guesses, and he bets Jason has never seen anything die so _real_ before. Jason just knows him as Jordie Benn, Jamie's big brother. His teammate. His friend. His closest friend on the Stars, the one with the crazy ginger beard. His partner in crime, always down to hit up a bar after a win and hit up four more after a loss, providing laughs and badly inappropriate yet totally appropriate jokes. 

Jason doesn't know Jordie as a killer.

But there is relief slowly washing over Jason's features, and Jordie turns more, watches the way the relief struggles against the unimaginable, how his hands shake at his sides.  


Jordie’s seen that look, once before, on Jamie, when he realized Tyler was missing. 

The relief wins but Jason stays where he is, watching Jordie, eyes flickering towards the horizon for stragglers. Jordie shakes the sweat from his hair and hoists his rifle low on his shoulder, approaching Jason, watching him pant.

He stops just short of him, waiting. Jason doesn’t say anything, doesn’t crack a joke like he used to if this was months ago but it’s not, but he holds Jordie’s gaze, some of his defiance there. His hands still shake.

Jordie reaches out and places his hand on Jason’s cheek. The shaking doesn’t stop, but Jason closes his eyes and breathes heavily, turning his face just slightly to nuzzle Jordie’s palm. Jordie strokes his cheek with his thumb for a few brief moments, before dropping his hand and moving forward. He’s not going to kiss Jason here amongst all this death. Not for their first time.

+

Jason would have known Jordie as his lover. They had been there, almost, many nights before, tucked away in hotel rooms after games when no one else was awake to see Jason leave his room and come and stay with Jordie. He never said why, and they never shared a bed, but Jason would slide under the covers of the second double in Jordie's room and roll onto his stomach to watch whatever he had on TV. They usually didn't talk. There wasn't much to talk about after games or nights out celebrating.

Eventually the TV would be shut off, and they'd watch each other in the soft glow of the table lamp. Two pairs of eyes would trace opposite features, learning the curve of noses and cheekbones and how many freckles were splattered across necks and just visible chests. 

The intimacy of these quiet moments kept Jordie quiet. He wasn't much of a talker to begin with, but Jason shut him up just as quickly as he got him to laugh. He didn't know what to make of Jason when he first joined the Stars, outside of knowing that he would definitely like him.

He hadn't expected to _like_ him, and to find that he seemed to be liked in return.

The sickness had taken their way of life away from them.

Jordie was glad Jason hadn't been lost in the first shuffle.

+

Jamie was not as lucky.

He looks relieved when he sees Jordie return, and he gets a look on his face close to what Jordie would describe as shocked joy when Jason enters their apartment. The Benn brothers have taken to camping out in an abandoned dormitory at UT Dallas, sharing shifts covering windows and the door and shooting any walking dead. At night they lay low, burning the candles left behind by whoever used to share the apartment they're currently staking out in, and they listen for noise, waiting. 

Death hasn't come yet, and most days Jordie is thankful. He tries not to think of their other teammates and whether they survived, and of the family up in Canada and if they are alright, and of how much time has passed, weeks at this point is all he's certain. 

He just focuses on Jamie.

Jamie has been worrying him.

His brother keeps going out during the day. It's safer than at night, but he keeps trying to go towards the arena.

Jordie knows what Jamie is looking for, and he knows that letting Jamie go into the arena would be reckless.

The night the first wave of the disease came, there had been a musical festival at the arena. Tyler had invited Jamie, enthusiastically showing up at their house, a flurry of frantic gestures and loud laughter. Jordie had stopped him, needing him to help fix a broken pipe at their home. Tyler had waited for a few minutes, but left when it seemed to be taking too long. Jamie had promised he would go later if he could.

Something had smelled odd about the air that night.

+

He knows that Jamie will only continue to grow more reckless. He never was reckless, not before Tyler, but Jordie hasn’t known the old Jamie in years and what’s done is done.

He’s thought of it before, late at night, when the world has fallen so silent and dark and the fears choke him from his sleep. 

He’s thought about the day he’ll have to put a bullet in his brother’s brain, when Jamie hobbles at him out of the darkness of the dorm, eyes glazed over with death and skin rotting, his last thought probably about failing the one he loves the most. 

Jordie’s thought about it a lot. He doesn’t think he can do it.

He knows he can’t.

+

Three weeks after finding Jason wandering the streets of Dallas, the trio leave their apartment and head towards the suburbs. An almost skeletal corpse had shuffled its way into the dormitory foyer and attacked Jason after they were returning from raiding the local supermarket, stealing the last of the unravaged and unrotted food.

Jamie had cut himself shaving that morning, and even though Jordie had done his best to stop the blood and conceal the cut, it hadn't been enough.

Jason had cried out, and Jamie had shouted, and Jordie had felt the blood rush to his ears as his mind blanked. He felt the cold shaft of his rifle beneath his fingers as he hoisted his gun into position and fired.

His aim stayed true, but Jason wound up covered in dark brown blood and half decomposed guts. Jordie and Jamie rushed Jason up the stairs into their bathroom, Jordie praying the dorm had enough water left to fill up the tub, and stripped Jason clean and made him sink beneath the cold water. Jamie stayed a few steps back as Jordie grabbed body soap and towels and scrubbed and scrubbed and scrubbed until Jason was clean.

He kept his eyes on only the blood and the gore, refusing to look anywhere else.

Jason kept his eyes on Jordie's face, breath heavy and cheeks a deep red.

"What now?" he asked when Jordie had finally dropped the towels and the soap, slumping against the side of the tub.

"We wait." 

"How long?"

Jordie doesn't respond. He's never seen anyone turn, and he doesn't know anything except from what he's seen on TV shows. It could be minutes. It could be hours.

Jason doesn't move from the tub. Jamie disappears inside to watch the windows and the door. 

It is dark when Jordie whispers, "Okay."

+

Jason is warm and pink and alive the next morning, a little bit cold from the water, a purple bruise blossomed on his shoulder from where he had been grabbed, but he is alive.

Jordie kisses him. He doesn't know how else to express his joy, so he pushes Jason against the wall in the hallway and grips his face between his hands and he kisses him. Jason grabs Jordie by the shoulders and pulls him closer, and he kisses him back, and they are a mess of tangled tongues and tightening grips and hips grinding together to create friction.

Jordie only sees Jamie out of the corner of his eye when he finally pulls away. His brother stands in the doorway to the kitchen. His face is pale and his dark eyes are hollow. Even though his gaze is directed straight at them Jordie knows his mind is at the arena, weeks and weeks and weeks ago.

They gave up on finding Tyler weeks and weeks and weeks ago. Jamie had never asked to find him, but Jordie knew he was always searching.

Jordie had known the day after that the chances of anyone surviving the arena were slim. He also knows Jamie hasn’t been right since that first night. He looks like he’s missing something, like half of him got torn away at the start of this whole mess and never came back.

An apology gets stuck in Jordie's throat.

Jamie blinks twice and disappears.

+

"I'm sorry."

Jamie is on the couch, eyes glazed over as he gazes at the wall where the broken TV sits. "It's okay," he says, but he doesn't look at Jordie. "I'm sorry too."

+

The last night before they decide to leave for the suburbs and hopefully civilization and maybe, just maybe even any news of their family or Tyler, Jordie makes love to Jason. They do not discuss what had happened earlier that day, or the day before when Jason had been attacked, or of Jamie and Tyler, or of anything at all. Jason pulls Jordie into his room and kisses him slowly, and then quickly, and then leads him to his bed and pulls him down, hands shoved up under his shirt and splaying across his muscles.

Jordie tries to take his time, even though he knows they only have so much. He wouldn't take his time even if they had it. He raises himself above Jason and gets to work.

And as Jordie looks down at Jason, who’s gripping the bedsheets, completely undone, chest heaving and sweaty and moaning Jordie’s name in rapid succession, it is in this moment, this one brief moment, that Jordie forgets about the world outside and Jamie’s heartbreak and all they have lost and will continue to lose, because Jason is perfect, Jason is his, and Jordie could kick himself for being so blind all those months ago when they were just two guys on the Dallas Stars messing with each other’s heads, stupidly thinking they had no time to lose, and then he hears Jason gasp and then he’s coming in the space between their bodies and Jordie grips him tighter and Jason continues to whisper his name like a faltering prayer, crushing their mouths together while Jordie thrusts once, twice, and then comes so hard the breath is knocked from his lungs and he collapses next to Jason, the world growing dark.

The last thing he sees before he passes out for the night is Jason's face. Jordie flashes back, just briefly, to that first day years ago, when Jason had first walked into the locker room. The guys had all started ribbing him immediately about the San Jose Sharks bag he was carrying, but Jason had just smiled brightly and took it all in stride, and the rest had kept on from there. He was smiling now, but it was not for a room full of teammates chirping him - it was for Jordie, just Jordie. 

And in their world full of seemingly unendless death and sadness, it is the most beautiful thing Jordie has ever seen.

**Author's Note:**

> ...you made it? Thank you! I hope you enjoyed.


End file.
